The Baptists
by Pinkmoon
Summary: They were unlike anyone the gang knew and Darry and Ponyboy felt themsevles drawn toward that type of lifestyle even when their brother didn't feel the same way.
1. The Soul Winner

The Baptists

By Pinkmoon

A.Ns. Well, first off, this is a heavily Christian story, so if that offends you then you probably don't want to read this. Also I mainly write about extremely conservative Baptists, mostly because I am one and because it's essential to the plot I have in mind. So if anyone has a probably with that then you may not want to read this story either. Otherwise, enjoy.

Second, I want to thank the people at the forum Realism and Accuracy for the help they gave me with the timing, among other things.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me and other fans, I do not own the Outsiders nor am I making money off this story. Be nice if I was though.

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Chapter One

_The Soul-winner_

_The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life; and he that winneth souls is wise._

_Proverbs 11:30_

The sun couldn't be any hotter, I thought as I climbed off of the black-shingled roof. The guy above me kept cursing, screaming at me to go faster. I would of but my back ached and the humid heat seemed to demand that every movement be slow and lethargic.

I eventually reached the parch, dirt ground as the man cussed me out one more time for good measure and headed for my Ford truck. The thing was so old that only a miracle kept it running. I pulled out of what would one day be a grass-covered yard and drove for home.

As I went, I wondered idly if my two brothers would be home yet. If memory severed correct, Ponyboy had gone to see a movie with Two-bit and Sodapop was walking home with Steve. Knowing them, the prospect wasn't likely.

I sighed. I had to work my other job to night and only had a couple of hours before I had to head out. That would give me little time to wind down and relax. So I turned on the radio and found a station playing some Elvis Presley song that was kind of mellowed. I forced my brain to focus on it and soon found my body slowly losing the tension it had gained through out the day.

I rejoiced when I finally saw the broken road that lead to our house. The neighborhood wasn't the nicest place in the city, though no one expected any different since it was in the East Side. The houses and trailers had a worn, frayed look with yards that had more dirt than grass. The people who lived here weren't much different in appearance. Almost everyone had a haggard faced and worn-out body from living in constant worry or constant drunkenness. Which was why I was surprised when I passed two teenaged girls walking down the road and stopped to talk to a woman who was sitting on her porch smoking a cigarette.

The girls weren't dressed like greasers, those of us who live in the East Side. No, their clothing consisted of solid colored, button-down shirts with three-quarter length sleeves and loose, ankle-length skirts. They looked vibrant, alive. Yet they didn't look like soces a.k.a the super rich who dwelt in extravagant homes on the West Side. Something about them was too shoddy. On the other side of the road a few houses down were two more girls, dressed in the same fashion, walking.

They had to be with a church or something I thought as I pulled into the driveway of our modest house and saw Ponyboy with Two-bit and Steve smoking on the front step.

I was surprised to see them. But as I got out of my truck and walked over to them, Steve and Two-bit decided that it would be the perfect time to start showing off their singing talent. They started screaming the "Mickey Mouse" theme song at the top of their longs and breaking up into girlish giggles. Lord, but it was early for them to be getting drunk. Or for Steve to be getting drunk anyways. With Two-bit, it was always a mystery.

"What did you hoods get into now?" I growled at them, my nose assaulted by the smell of alcohol. Yeah, one of them was definitely drunk, probably both if I knew Two-bit. I crossed my arms over my chest and glowered at them. Both knew I didn't like them drinking heavy around Pony. Last thing the kid needed was to get hooked on that stuff, especially if he was going to make it in college.

"Aw, Darry, it ain't nothing but a little ole bit of beer. The kid didn't drink any," Two-bit slurred and slung his arm around Ponyboy. Ponyboy glanced at him and sighed. He then glanced at me with one of those "Please-get-me-out-of-this" begging looks. I wasn't about to disappoint.

"A little bit, huh?" I scoffed. I had to get these two out of here if those girls were going to come into our yard. I mean, how would that look if some kind of church people came into your yard and found two drunks on your front porch?

"Weren't no more than three or four cans, Superman. What are you so worked up about?" Steve asked, leaning back on his hands.

I rolled my eyes and ordered, "Just go in side and sober up or something."

Steve and Two-bit clumsily stood, swore a little at me, and stumbled inside.

I dropped down next to Pony and sighed. He gave me a sideway glance and drew a drag from his cigarette. I ran a hand through my hair and asked, "Isn't it too early for them to be getting drunk?"

"Tim Shepherd showed up at the DX and got Steve started, so Soda tells me and Two-bit...well you know Two-bit," he explained with a shrug.

"Yeah that was a dumb question, wasn't it?" I asked. Ponyboy gave a light chuckle and turned his gaze toward the girls walking down the road.

"I've been watching those girls ever since we got here," he nodded at them, "wondering what their doing on this side of town."

"I was wondering the same thing as I was driving in," I told him as I started to watch the girls on our side of the road.

"They've been stopping at every house, leaving some kind of pamphlet or something. It's weird."

"They may be Mormons or Jehovah Witness or something. I've heard that they go through neighborhoods and leave stuff," I said. A pair of girls was walking up to our neighbor's door.

"Where's Soda?" I asked, as we watched the two. He could handle people a lot better than me or Pony could.

"Inside calling some new girl he met."

"Great." I started feeling pity for those girls. They were, as Sodapop would say, about to converse with Mr. Cold and Unreachable and his kid brother Mr. Shy and Nervous. Soda had started calling us that one night when he and Steve brought some girls over. I had been busy cooking dinner and worrying about bills and Ponyboy daydreaming and reading some new novel he had bought. We therefore said very little that night. This annoyed Soda and hence the nicknames.

I sighed. Why was it people decide to come talk to the Curtis brothers when the talkative one was unavailable?

The two girls left the house and began walking along our chain length fence, sneaking looks at us. I took those few moments to study them.

One of the girls, perhaps the oldest of the two, reminded me of one of my mother's china dolls. She had jet-black hair that curled lightly, the ends brushing her swanlike neck. Her hair contrasted against her snowy complexion. Black eyebrows arched gracefully over dark eyes. Her lips were painted a blood red and her round cheeks were stained a light pink. She was of small stature, about a foot or so shorter than me and as thin as a piece of string.

Her companion was her total opposite. A Grecian goddess, her sun-kissed hair fell straight down her back. Blue sapphires rested beneath thin eyebrows. Bronze skin glowed and shimmered in the sunlight. Her height dwarfed the other girl and her athletic built made the black-haired beauty appear frail and delicate. In fact everything about her made the dark-haired girl appear somewhat homely and fragile.

Now what were two girls that good-looking doing here? I pondered as they entered our yard and gave Ponyboy and me cautious smiles.

"Hello," the dark haired girl said brightly.

"Hello, " I responded, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, leaving my hands to dangle in midair.

"My name is Sarah Wallace," she continued when she reached us, "and this is my friend Rebecca. We're from Lighthouse Baptist Church and we're just visiting around the neighborhood, inviting people to come out and visit us."

"Is that so? We were just wondering what y'all were doing out here," I said just to be saying something. Sarah began to chuckle.

"You've got to be the twentieth person who's told us that."

I smiled lightly at the comment but couldn't think of anything to add. So I waited for her to continue.

"Well, anyways, do you go to a church around here?" she asked.

"No, we haven't gone in a while," I told her. I hadn't been to a church since my parents' death, mostly because of my jobs. Anyway, when they had been alive, I only made the occasional appearance, mostly to appease my mother.

"Oh, we'd love to have you come check us out then. Here, let me give you this," she pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to me. I glance over it to see it was one of those pamphlet type things. Ponyboy was looking over my shoulder and I gave it to him. He began a minute inspection of the slip of folded paper.

"It tells a little bit about our church," Sarah explained when I looked back at her. I nodded and didn't speak. This didn't seem to faze her like it did most girls.

"Can't I ask you one more thing? What are your names?" she grinned a little.

"My name is Darrel Curtis and this is my brother, Ponyboy," I said and waited for a reaction to the unusual name. I got one, just not the one I was expecting.

"Ponyboy, someone was telling me about a Ponyboy the other day. Who was it?" Sarah asked turning to Rebecca.

"I think it was Josiah Simms," she said and I was shocked by the masculine quality of her voice. Deep and low, how could something so manly come from something so feminine, I wondered.

"That's right. He was telling me how you were really smart and had skipped a grade. Do you know him?" Sarah asked Ponyboy who was looking at her like she had grown an extra head.

"Um, yeah. I've spoke to him a few times," Pony mumbled.

"He's in my Sunday School class. I'm sure he'd be glad to see you if you came Sunday," Sarah encouraged.

"I guess," Pony mumbled still and kind of turned to me with one of his desperate looks. I swear I've never seen a kid so nervous around girls. I started to try and think of a way to end the conversation.

"Well, Darrel and Ponyboy, would it be alright if I asked you one more thing before I go?" If the girl wasn't a mind reader, the voice in my head exclaimed.

"Depends on the question I suppose," I teased lightly. Might as well get some fun out of this, right?

Sarah's eyes widened a little and threw a side-glance at Rebecca.

"Well, that's a new one," Sarah mumbled. Rebecca nodded her head and bit her lip.

"Anyways," Sarah continued, immediately brightening, "if something were to happen, do you both know a hundred percent for sure that you'd go to Heaven?"

I think that one floored both Ponyboy and me. I mean, that ain't something you go asking people everyday, in any neighborhood, especially ours.

"Uh...yeah, I guess so," Ponyboy stumbled.

"You guess?" Sarah prodded, her voice going soft and gentle. Pony looked lost for a minute and the silence gave me a second to regain my bearings.

Was I going to Heaven? Did such a place even exist? Mama had thought so. Was she right? And if she were, would she be there now?

"I've gone to church a few times," I heard Pony saying and felt him shift next to me. He started to raise his hand to get a puff of his cancer stick but stopped in mid-air and changed his mind. He tossed the cigarette on the ground and snuffed it out with his shoe.

"Well, the Bible says that just going to church doesn't guarantee Heaven. Look, would you mind if I shared a few verses?"

Both of us shook our heads no. Sarah then took another pamphlet thing out of her pocket.

"Well," she began opening the folded paper, "the Bible says in Romans 3:23 that _For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God._ That means we're all sinners. We've all done bad things."

Pony nodded at her. I waited. That was knowledge I already had. Where was the hard part?

"Then, you also need to know that there's a penalty for sin. The Bible says _for the wages of sin is death_. So basically we all have to die because we've sinned.

"But Jesus loves us so much that He died on the cross as a sacrifice in order to pay that penalty for us. The Bible says that _"God commendth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us_.

"The Bible then says that Heaven is a free gift from Jesus, _But the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord_. So in other words, going to Heaven is a free gift that you can't work for, or go to church for, or be good for.

"Lets say that this track is ...um...50 dollars," she held up the pamphlet thing.

"Okay," I mumble. She held it out and proceeded.

"And lets say I was going to give it to you as a gift. So what would you have to do to get it?"

Pony and I kind of stared at her and glanced at each other. I had no idea what she meant by that. Ponyboy shrugged at her and she smiled gently at his confusion as if she expected it.

"You simply take it. That's kind of how Heaven is. God's holding it out to you, just waiting for you to take it."

Ponyboy kind of nodded at her. I continued to stare into space thinking. Was it really so simple? Sarah had said that you didn't need to "work" to get into Heaven. Was that true? Didn't you have to make up for all the bad things you've done?

Or were we so wicked, we'd never be able to do enough good? What if Jesus' death was the only way? And wouldn't trying to earn Heaven on your own defeat the purpose of Jesus' death?

"Can we pray?" Sarah asked, pulling me from my whirlwind of thoughts. Pony side-glanced at me and I nodded. His eyes refocused on Sarah. "Sure."

Sarah and Rebecca both bowed their heads. Pony and I followed suite as Sarah began.

"Dear Lord, thank you for bringing Rebecca and me by to talk to Ponyboy and Darrel. Lord we've been talking about you. Now Darrel, Ponyboy, with your heads bowed and eyes closed, if you want to ask Jesus into your hearts repeat after me, Dear Jesus."

I heard Pony whisper the words I said in my head.

"Forgive me of my sin. Today I trust you, Jesus, and only you to take me to Heaven when I die. Thank you for saving me. Amen."

When Pony uttered the last word we all looked up and stared at each other awkwardly.

"Well, do y'all think you'll want to come to church Sunday," Rebecca's masculine voice broke the awkwardness. "Ponyboy can. I may have to work so..." I trailed off when I saw Pony's face

Ponyboy's eyes suddenly found my face. Big, round, wide eyes that were begging. My one weakness and he knew it.' Fight it' my brain commanded. 'Do you really want to disappoint him?' my heart responded. I fought a moment longer and then sighed.

"I'll see if I can't get Sunday off," I surrendered. Ponyboy's face immediately brightened and gave me the biggest grin I'd ever seen, and returned to the two girls.

"Okay great. Um, if you can't get off and Pony needs a ride or something, the number for the church is on the back of that track I gave you," Sarah handed it back to me, "If you don't get someone, then you can call me and I'll set up a ride."

She gave us her number and with a "Hope to see you Sunday" she and her friend left and continued to walk down the road.

Pony and I remained on the porch a while longer. He looked up at the sky, probably finding shapes in the clouds.

"Darry?" he asked suddenly.

"Hmm?" I turned and looked him over, as he seemed to struggle with his words. Light brown, reddish in this light, colored the top of his head with the ends a snow white. His haircut was still weird looking and I made a mental note to see if I could get him a hair appointment or something.

"Did you pray that prayer?" he finally asked. Silence for moment and then my voice forming the words, "Yeah, I did."

He nodded and went quiet again. The silence and sitting seemed unproductive to me when there was always something to do around the house, so I began to wonder what there was to do.

'If Pony and I go to church Sunday, we'll need a Bible...' the thought seemed to come from nowhere. I debated with myself, something I was always doing besides worrying.

'There's not much I can do about that. Bibles are kind of expensive, or the nice ones anyways. It's not like we have one either. I don't think...' I actually thought about it some and remembered that Momma had one that her mother had given her.

I must have put it up in the attic with all of my parents things when they—

I ended the thought as the all too familiar pain and emptiness seared through my nerve endings. I don't think I ever really got over my parents' death. I don't think any of us did.

"Pony," I began but paused at how gruff my voice sounded. He gave me a concerned look. I swallowed.

"If you're going to go to that church, then you'll probably need a Bible. And I think I know where Momma's is."

I stared out into the street, avoiding his eyes. Our parents were still a touchy subject and we almost never mentioned them, much less the things they had once owned. Ponyboy didn't say anything, didn't move, remained a statue. A statue with living eyes that I could feel burned through my skin, trying to figure me out.

"Where?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Attic, possibly."

"That would take a while."

"Yeah," I mumbled. I still didn't look at him and he still remained motionless.

"Then I guess we better get started." My head snapped around. A small grin played upon his lips waiting for my mouth to mimic it. My lips were quick to comply.

"Yeah, I guess we better." And with that Ponyboy and I entered the war-zone formally known as the Curtis' house.

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Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry if someone seems out of character. This is my first Outsiders story so I'm still feeling my way through it. Please review, constructive criticism welcomed. And I would love to have a beta reader for this story so if anyone is willing, tell me so.

Pinkmoon


	2. Hidden Treasures

The Baptists

By Pinkmoon

AN: Well, thanks for all the reviews and the kind compliments. I don't know if I'll always update this soon but I'll try. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders and for the rest of the story I don't own the Outsiders so I'm going to stop putting this up with every chapter.

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Chapter Two

Hidden Treasures

_For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also._

Matthew 6:21

The living room looked spotless before I left for work that morning. Our coffee table had shone in the early morning sunlight. My chair, and let me repeat, _my _chair had looked comfortable and inviting with an old throw blanket tossed on the back.

This was of course, this morning when only Ponyboy was around. Now it was around five and probably everyone I knew had come over at one point or another through out the day.

Hence, my living room looked like a nuclear missile had exploded in it.

Beer and coke cans covered the coffee table along with the random, empty potato chip bag. On the floor sat an unfinished game of Monopoly along with more coke cans, all of them half way full. And _my_ chair was "decorated" with candy and Little Debbie cake wrappers. And was that chocolate and cream filling that someone smeared on the arm? Oh, someone was definitely going to die.

"Who was eating in my chair?" I hissed. I didn't see any of the guys and began to listen for their voices. The kitchen. Perfect. Plenty of sharp utensils at my disposal.

"Er..." Pony half shrugged. I marched toward into the kitchen, Ponyboy tagging along, beginning to nibble on one of his nails.

"DARRY!" an excited voice cried. It was Soda and his silly grin almost made me feel guilty for the crime I was about to commit. Almost.

Soda sat at the table, shuffling a deck of cards. Based on his reaction to my entrance, I reasoned he hadn't been the one who decided to dine on chocolate in my chair. Two-bit and Steve were in the mist of an arm-wrestling match, glaring ice at each other. Neither had given me a glance.

"Who was eating in my chair?" Silence. All active ceased.

"Ah..." Soda's eyelids moved rapidly. Steve shifted in his chair, ready to jump up and run if things got messy. Two-bit fiddled with the collar of his shirt and swallowed. Ponyboy was leaning against the counter, chewing on a nail that decided to be stubborn and refuse to break. I stood, towering over them all, drawing power from their immense fear of my retribution. (Or rather my ego was getting a boost from their nervousness but I like that other sentence a lot better.)

"I don't know, Darry. It wasn't me," Sodapop said in a rush, immediately returning to shuffling with his eyes transfixed on the deck.

"I never go near your chair," Steve added, looking at me with a mixture of fear and awe.

"Me neither," Two-bit practically shouted.

I stared hard for a moment to see if any of them would break. Nothing. Then I turned around to get a glass out of the cabinet. Behind my back I heard collective sighs of relief. Conversation started back up and I turned on the cold water in the sink, filling up my glass.

"So who were those girls Steve was telling me about?" Soda inquired, one of his feet tapping out an odd rhythm on the floor.

"They were from a church and talked about Jesus," Pony quickly answered with a kind of child-like enthusiasm that seemed odd for him.

"Oh." For once Soda seemed at a lost for words.

"And one of them told us how to get to Heaven. I never heard anything like that before." He acted like he would have said more if Soda hadn't interrupted.

"I see. Hey do you two wanna play?"

"Nah, Pony and me were gonna go up into the attic." I turned off the water and took a long gulp of the liquid, drinking the majority of it. I glanced at the clock on the wall and began to calculate.

"What are you going up there for?" Soda asked dealing out cards.

"Look for Mom's Bible. Darry said I could go to church Sunday and that I'd probably need one," Pony answered.

"Why didn't you do that when Pony was going before?" Soda looked at his cards and avoided my gaze. Why?

"I didn't think I could go up there and it never crossed my mind anyways." I watched as Two-bit laid two cards down. Soda dealt him two. "I see. Are y'all gonna have time to do that?"

I shrugged. "I'll have about an hour before I need to come back down here."

"Then lets go." Pony grabbed one of the unoccupied chairs and dragged it down the hall. I searched for a flashlight in the drawers, shaking my head at his eagerness. After I finally found one, I followed him.

Pony stood at the end of the hall, positioning the chair underneath what we called the "attic door." It was more like a crawl space, a rectangle cut out from the ceiling surrounded by a border with a piece of plywood that covered it.

"How long has it been since we were last up there?" Ponyboy asked when he saw me. I shrugged and climbed onto the chair. Pushing up on the plywood, I slid it over to reveal the hole. Only one person could squeeze through at a time, which meant that most of the boxes were going to be small which in turn meant that there were more than I cared to count. I sighed at the thought of just how many boxes I would probably look through.

Then, placing my hands on either side of the opening I quickly pulled myself up and into the attic. Once I pulled my legs out of the way, Ponyboy climbed onto the chair. I helped Pony up and then looked around.

I had placed the flashlight in my pocket before I entered the attic. Now I pulled it out and began to shine the beam of light around. Insulation blanketed the floor. The roof was so low that Pony and I would only be able to crawl to get around. The boxes were right behind us but there seemed to be a million and one. Dust covered them and stirred in the air. The air itself was sweltering and I was beginning to perspire and I hadn't even done anything. Was one worn-out Bible really worth this much trouble?

"Glory, it's dark up here," I heard Pony whisper behind me.

"Yeah, it is. Come on, Mom and Dad's stuff should be behind us," I turned around and placed the flashlight on the floor. We started opening up boxes and not finding anything for the first fifteen minutes. Heat burned the air and I could feel the sweat running off my nose. Boy, did that put me in a mood. Now, not only did I have dried on sweat from earlier and red dirt all over my skin, but I could also add your friendly old attic dust and the all so wonderful fresh sweat my own body produced to the list. And you still have to work to night, my brain reminded me. That just made me madder.

Of course, Ponyboy, perceptive soul that he is, never picked up on my disposition and began to hum absently. And it was one of those up beat, cheerful tunes; the kind that just makes you want to kill whoever is producing that sound because it was grating on your already raw nerves.

But, being the mature older brother that I am, I resolved not to say anything, even if I had to bite my tongue until it bled.

"How many more do you think there are?" Ponyboy asked, finishing up on a box.

"Not sure. Some of them are labeled so that should help eliminate the ones we don't want and save time. We got about forty-five minutes left."

"Darry, why can't I just stay up here and finish while you go get ready?" Pony reached for another box and looking it over for a label.

"Because I don't want you alone up here," I explained, looking in another cardboard box. Mama's old clothes.

"Why not?" he persisted, pulling out old papers and pictures.

"Because I don't," I muttered absently. I opened another box and found Dad's old clothes. Some of it looked like it would fit me. Now I'm the type of person who doesn't like to let things go to waste if they're useable so I sat the box off to the side to take back downstairs.

Ponyboy by now had found my mother's old jewelry box and looked at random pieces.

"Pony," I reprimanded. He quickly dropped the ring he had been looking at and stared up at me.

"Sorry," he mumbled, blinking his eyes rapidly. That stopped any tirade I might have engaged in about wasting time. Looking good and hard at my baby brother, it seemed to me that only a thread held him together and that thread was about to break. Did my parents' death still affect him so, even after a year and a half? I wondered as I watched him try to keep his tears at bay. 'Why can't he do this when Soda is around?' I grumbled to myself. Soda was always better at this stuff.

I messed around with the contents of a box, debating on whether or not to let his near-breakdown pass unnoticed. He made the decision for me.

"Is this Mom's engagement ring?" He held a gold band with a tiny diamond in the center. Looking at it, I could here my Dad tell me the story of how he proposed.

"So there I was on my knees and I finally asked her the question," he'd say, his hands moving with each word. "And then before she said anything I showed her the ring. And do you know what she did?" I would always shake my head no. He would never finish if I had said yes.

"She squealed like a pig! I still don't know if it was because of the ring or not." He would then turn his teasing eyes to Momma only to meet her glaring ones. She'd then stick her tongue out at him and say in a voice that sounded an awful lot like a soc, "Of course it was because ring."

They did that once when Ponyboy was five or so. At Momma's words, he started to bawl and when he finally calmed down enough to talk, he said that he thought Mom didn't love Dad because she had only married him for the ring. Of course, Mom knew just how to set him straight.

"I do love your daddy, baby. I was just teasing. Anyways, I only squealed like that because I never thought he would ever ask me to marry him, never thought anyone would really." Then she grinned mischievously and leaned in close to Pony, "But that was the first diamond ring I ever saw so I wasn't about to pass it up."

This resulted with Dad chasing her down the hall to their bedroom, her screeching like a banshee, and us three brothers running after them. We weren't about to miss out on any of the fun.

"What are you smilin' about and are you ever gonna answer my question?" Ponyboy's irritated voice shattered the memory and brought me back to the here and now.

"Sorry," I smiled a little sheepishly. "Yeah, it's her ring and it reminded me of something."

"What?" He returned the ring to the box and picked up another.

"Remember how Dad would tease Mom about her squealing when he asked her to marry him?" At his nod, I actually started to look inside the box I should have been looking through for the past ten minutes.

"Then remember how you thought they were being serious once and started crying? We ended up in their bed, tickling each other to death."

"I remember," Laughter colored his voice, "Soda about suffocated me before you pulled him off and went after him."

"And then you jumped in there with me and Soda started screaming for Mom and Dad to help him," I added, closing up the box.

"Yeah but instead of helping him out, they went after all three of us and somehow everything that had been on their bed ended up on the floor."

"Including us," I laughed, "which Dad thought was hilarious but we were so mad because we all had managed to hit something when we fell."

"And Mom immediately began to scold him about being too rough on us. Hey, I found it!" Ponyboy exclaimed, delicately (or at least as delicately a greaser can) holding his treasure: a worn, thick Bible.

I noticed that the red leather cover's edges were frayed. Gold lettering had slowly worn off so what should have said "Holy Bible" now read "oly B l e." Pages were falling out, Pony trying to put them back into place.

"Not in the best conditions, is it?" Disappointment filled my voice. Why was it nothing I tried to do turn out right?

"It's perfect. It's old and I like old things," he said softly. I glanced at his face. He looked down at that book like he was staring at diamonds or gold.

"Well then, I guess I'm going to have to take you up here more often." He smiled at me and I grinned back.

"Yeah, otherwise I'm going to have to sneak up here." That wiped the grin off my face

"You better not, kid," I warned as he rolled his eyes.

"I'm fourteen. What's the big deal?" he cried, looking at me like I was insane. Perhaps I am, but hey, who's going to know that?

"I don't want you up here alone, that's the big deal," I answered, and got ready to leave the attic. I swung my legs in the door. Pony sighed behind me and mumbled something I didn't quite catch.

"Hey Dar, can I bring Mom's jewelry box down?" he suddenly asked. I was about to slide off but stopped. I glanced over my shoulder at him. He ran a finger over the lid, back and forth, back and forth.

"I guess. Can you carry all that?"

He gave me a disgusted look and that was answer enough. I slid out of the hole and landed on the chair. My head was still though the attic door and I grabbed Dad's clothes.

Once I got off the chair Pony came down, Bible and jewelry box in hand. Dust adhered to his skin and sweat ran down his brow. I looked down at my clothes. My t-shirt no longer shined a pristine white but orange dirt and brown dust decorated it. My faded blue jeans looked about the same as my shirt and I could see the beginnings of a hole in one of the knees. Perfect.

"Thanks Darry," Pony's quiet voice spoke up. I looked at him; he didn't look at me. He gazed lovingly at the jewelry box and Bible.

"No problem. Look, I'm gonna go get ready. Can you or Soda get dinner goin'?" I asked. He nodded, still looking at his prized possessions. I wondered for a moment if he even heard me.

But with the box of Dad's things, I headed toward my room.

Once in my room, I put the box on my bed. That bed looked so comfortable, so soft at that moment that I almost decided to crash right then and there.

'Don't you dare, Shaynne.' I warned myself and got my clothes out of the closet. (And yes, when talking with self I refer to self by my middle name. And I haven't the slightest idea why.) I gave my bed one last, lingering look and head for the shower.

'Man, I hate working the night shift.'

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Thanks for reading and please review. 

-Pinkmoon


	3. My Brother, My Brother

The Baptists

By Pinkmoon

AN: I am so sorry for the long wait but our phone got cut off meaning no internet access and we just recently moved, which also set me back as some of my writings got put into storage. Some of it still remains there. So what I had written I have to rewrite. Hopefully the rewrites will be better than the originals so I won't feel like I've wasted my time and y'all will get the better end of the deal.

Now after that long note, here's the chapter.

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Chapter Three

My Brother, My Brother

"_A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity."_

Proverbs 17:17

White lightening flashed outside the kitchen window drawing Ponyboy's and mine attention. Friday night with nothing to do but watch the lightening. And cook. Can't forget about cooking. I turned back to the chili I was in the mist of making, giving it a couple stirs. Ponyboy sat at the table mixing up cornbread batter. Sodapop was in the living room watching something on TV.

The red sauce began to bubble and I turned down the heat. Everything was ready. Everything but the cornbread. Surely it was done now. Surely Ponyboy wouldn't be daydreaming. Not when I was trying to get dinner done as quickly as possible so I could make it to bed at a semi-decent hour. Surely he…would. I turned to see Ponyboy gazing transfixed at the wall, absently stirring the mushy mix. I'm gonna kill that daydreamer one of the days. But first, lets all play a game of "Doctor Darry resuscitates Patient Ponyboy."

"Ponyboy," I called. Patient unresponsive. More power.

"Ponyboy," I exclaimed. Patient still unresponsive. Now for my favorite part of the game.

"Ponyboy!" I hollered. Patient has responded! Jumped from chair. Turned to face Doctor Darry who rejoiced at his success in reviving Patient Ponyboy.

"Yeah?" he mumbled, trying to look tuff while holding a wooden kitchen spoon in his hand.

"You're dripping cornbread on the floor," I drawled. He looked sheepishly at the spoon and grinned at me.

"So I am."

"You do realize that I cleaned this floor yesterday?" I used my dangerous tone and Pony started to look nervous.

"Yeah," he said slowly.

"And you went ahead and messed it up anyway?" I started advancing toward him and he realized my intentions.

"Aw, Dar, please don't." He slowly backed away from me and started to look for an escape.

"Don't what?" I continued my advance. He was getting close to the wall.

"What ever it is you're planning to do." He looked up at me with those wide eyes. Wide gray-green eyes that I always had a hard time refusing. Honestly, you'd think after fourteen years, I'd be immune by now.

"Alright," I relented, "I'll have pity on you. Just clean up the floor and get that bread into the oven."

"Yes, sir, General Curtis, sir," he muttered.

"Are you mocking me?" I growled and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Never," he grinned at me as he slowly poured the batter into a pan. I gave him last glare and went to join Soda on the couch.

"What are you watching?" I asked as I settled next to him and stretched out.

"News," he answered without looking at me.

"Vietnam?"

"Yup. Their talking about how many more have gotten drafted."

I sighed. Just another reminder that at any moment I could get drafted and in three months, so could Soda. What would we do if Soda was drafted? If I was? If both of us were? What would happen to Ponyboy?

"Okay, I'm done," Pony stated as he strode into the room, breaking my somber mood. He flopped down into my chair, stretched his short legs out and looked every bit the typical teenager.

"Then dinner'll be ready in…oh, twenty minutes." I leaned my head back against the couch and closed my eyes. Suddenly, unbidden, that girl, Sarah, flashed into my mind. There had been something about her. Something…familiar. Almost like I had seen her before. But I knew I had never spoken a word to the raven-haired girl until two days ago. But it kept bugging me.

"Darry?" Soda's voice called.

"Hmm?" Had I seen her at the store or something?

"Can I get a peace sign tattoo and go live in harmony with all the other hippies?"

"Suppose." Or was it while I worked? Had she passed by a house I—wait a minute! What did he say?

"Sodapop Patrick Curtis!" My voice fell on deaf ears as my brothers lost themselves in a laughter fit.

"You two know what? I think we all should go to bed earlier tonight. Extra sleep will do us good." It'd do me good anyways; get them out of my hair for a while.

"Aw, Darry, you know I was only teasing. What were you thinking about anyways?" Soda inquired.

Now Soda can't stand for me to keep anything from him. He virtually tells me everything and feels I should give him the same courtesy. But, as they say, revenge is sweet.

"Nothing."

"Darry," he whined, sitting up on his knees on the couch. Apparently, he completely forgot that he was a seventeen year old greaser, not a five-year-old kid pestering his big brother.

"It wasn't anything. Change the channel Pony."

"What to?" he asked as he stood and walked to the TV.

"Darry tell me!" Soda leaned toward me.

"Oh, I don't know. Why don't you pick?" I said lazily, placing my hands behind my head.

"Dar-_ry_," he whined each syllable in my ear. A very high-pitch whine.

"How about _Andy Griffin_?" Ponyboy asked as he changed the dial on the set.

"Darrel, tell me!" 'Resorting to my first name won't work, little buddy' I smugly thought.

"That'll be alright, I suppose," I closed my eyes.

"Dar-_rel, _tell me!" I spared him a glance. The first thing I saw was his eyes. His face had to be only an inch away.

"Tell you what, little brother?" I asked, innocently. The kid glared at me and all in two seconds, launched himself at me. I pushed him as he grabbed my shirt and we crashed on to the floor. We wrestled for a while, trying to gain the upper hand and not knock over the coffee table.

"Is dinner ready yet?" Ponyboy suddenly asked. I looked up from the headlock I had Sodapop in at the clock and froze. Then my body went into automatic and released Soda. I soared over him and ran to the kitchen, praying that nothing had been burned.

I had been lucky.

"I'll take that as a yes," Ponyboy mumbled as he moseyed over to the silverware drawer and pulled out three spoons.

"Geez, Darry, you'd think the place was on fire, the way you moved," Soda teased as I pulled the cornbread out of the oven.

"You wantin' to get hurt tonight, little buddy?" I threaten.

He only laughed as he got some plates out of the cabinet, "I think I've upset him, Pony. What do you think?"

"I think I'm gonna stay out of it," he responded as he finished setting the table and grabbed a couple of Pepsi out of the refrigerator.

"How very diplomatic of you," I muttered sarcastically.

"Hey! Big words are not allowed in this house!" Soda exclaimed, holding out a plate while I poured some chili on it.

"How unfortunate," Pony retorted. Soda glared while I'm sure Ponyboy grinned wildly at him.

I quickly dished out the rest of the food and we sat down at the table. Conversation waned as we dined (rather stuffed as much food into our mouths as possible). I was pleased with myself. I had yet again cooked a decent meal and avoided any kind of disaster in the process. Quite a success.

"Hey Darry, did you get Sunday off?" Pony asked as he slurped some of his chili.

"Yep."

"What's going on Sunday?" Sodapop asked, chewing on his bread.

"Church, don't you remember?" Pony looked up from his food.

"Oh. Right."

I looked at Soda. Something about his voice changed. The words had a hard, almost harsh sound yet it wasn't quite that distinct. Almost like a hint of whatever it was.

"Do you want to come with us?" Pony had resumed eating and paid little attention to Soda

"No." Now that was unusual. Sodapop normally was the first one who would be up for that kind of thing. I stopped eating and studied him. Body rigid, he sat straight as a wall. His mouth formed at thin, small line. Brown eyes glared at his food. Something was definitely up.

"Why not?" Pony glanced up and stared at him.

"Because I just don't feel like going." He angrily shoved food into his mouth as Pony and I just watched. He glanced up at us and glared venom.

"What?" Soda hissed.

"Nothing," I mumbled and went back to eating. He and I were definitely going to talk.

"Why are you so mad?" Pony asked. 'No, you idiot. Leave him alone' I thought and stopped eating again. The way this was going, it'd be midnight before I got done

"I'm not mad," Soda declared, eating rapidly.

"Then why are you acting like it?" Ponyboy persisted. Soda glanced at him and then his food. You're pushing it, kid, my mind warned.

"Ponyboy, just shut up about it." Soda jammed the spoon in his mouth and hit his upper gum. He cursed softly while Pony watched him.

"What's wrong?" Pony asked. Why was this kid so stubborn? He and Sodapop were going to get into if he didn't stop.

"Nothing's wrong! Just leave me alone." Sodapop didn't even looking up as he rammed food into his mouth. Ponyboy glared at him for a second and then dropped his fork with a loud clatter.

"Ponyboy," I breathed. He could have broken the plate and I would be the one cleaning it up.

"Sorry. I'm no longer hungry. May I be excused?" he asked testily. I nodded and watched as he stood and placed his plate in the sink.

"Don't stay up to late," I said as he walked out. I started eating the rest of my meal, waiting for Soda to start the conversation.  
"He's mad at me, ain't he?" he asked all of the sudden.

"Yeah he is," I sighed.

"So now what?" Soda began to play with his food.

"What did you always tell me when Pony and I got into fights?" I countered.

Silence.

"So, what's the deal with church?" I asked. He sighed and looked at me, like he was measuring me up. Then, he looked away.

"It's complicated," he muttered to his plate.

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to tell me?"

"No."

"I see." I got up and put my plate in the sink. "You want help washing?"

"Nah, I got it," he said and stood.

"Alright. I'll be in my room then."

"See ya in the morning," he said as he began to attack the stack of dishes.

As I began to move down the hall, my screaming muscles demanded that I go slowly. The house I had worked on today had been particularly steep and it took everything to keep one's footing. Then at my other job at this storage warehouse place, they had me unloading some eighteen-wheelers. Honestly, it's a miracle I haven't tore a ligament or something.

"Why did you have to go and get _two_ real jobs?" I gently chided myself as I passed Pony's and Soda's room. I looked in on him, just to see what he was up to. Ponyboy sat on his bed, writing furiously in a notebook. His face was set in a scowl and his hand clenched his pen. Yeah, he was definitely mad.

"Ponyboy?" I called softly. Grey-green eyes locked with my blue-green ones but nothing else moved. Those eyes that could see through flesh fix on me, studying me, watching me. Why did he always have to do that?

"You alright?" I asked and then swallowed. His eyes continued their stare, perhaps seeing my thoughts, my soul. Then he finally looked away.

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

"That's a lie if I ever heard one," I said, coming into the room. That caused a smile to grace his lips and he looked up at me, this time his eyes weren't so piercing.

"Yeah, it is," he stated matter of factly. I sat on the bed across from him. When was the last time I had done that?

"So, what's bothering you?"

"I don't know. I guess it's Soda." His eyes dropped back down to his notebook.

"What do you mean?" I was kind of sure he was mad about the scene in the kitchen but I wanted to make sure.

"He's just been…annoying, I guess," Pony answered. I waited for him to continue. He seemed to realize this and went on.

"I've been reading Mom's Bible at night and every time he sees me grab it, he'll scoff or say something or ask me why I'm wasting my time," he stopped for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. I waited, pondering over this new information. What was a matter with that middle brother of mine?

He continued, "Darry, he's never been like that. I thought he would have been, I don't know, more supportive but he's…always doing what he did in the kitchen. Getting moody and angry and everything. It's weird."

He stopped and looked at his hands for a moment. Then he looked back up at me and his eyes had changed again. Piercing, searching.

"What do you think's wrong?"

I sat for a moment, trying to answer that question. I didn't have the slightest idea. The whole thing seemed bizarre and so out of character for Sodapop. The kid had never had a problem with religion before; he always seemed to enjoy it, in fact. So what was the deal now?

"I don't know, Pony. It doesn't seem real for him…" I trail off as I lost my train of thought. Pony lowered his eyes and sighed.

"Exactly." Pony closed his notebook and sat it on the floor with the pen on top of it.

"You know," he started but paused for a second. He swallowed and started again, "I've been reading in the Bible about how when someone got saved, they got baptized afterwards and…well…I…er…"

"You want to be baptized?" I cut him off. He nodded and said, "Yeah. I do. Would you want to?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it." The idea had never entered my brain. I knew what baptism was. I had gone to see a few of my friends get baptized when I was in middle school. But the thought that I would need to never connected in my head.

"I guess we'll have to ask about that on Sunday," I concluded. He nodded and turned to look at the clock on his wall.

"It's late. You probably should go to bed." He said as he turned back and looked at me expectantly.

"Aren't I the one who's supposed to say that?" I laughed. He grinned and said, "Yeah, but you see, I don't have to go to school or work tomorrow. You do."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder," I mumbled sarcastically. I stood slowly. Man, I could use one of Soda's massages tonight.

"Night, Darry," he mumbled and stretched out on the bed. I nodded back to him and left. I quickly went into my room and land face first on the bed, which was idiotic of me because it sent my muscles to screaming. I thought about changing but decided to just take off my boots and belt and empty my pockets.

As I pulled the comforter over me, I wondered if Pony and Soda would go at it again tonight. I doubt it. It was more like them to just talk it out, cry, promise to never kept secrets or their feeling hidden ever again, and promptly forget anything had ever happened. Or, also keeping in tune to their personalities, they'll won't say word to each other and just go to sleep. I had a feeling it would be the latter, and I, being the responsible, mature adult (Yeah, right), would have to deal with it sooner or later.

'Lord,' I thought, 'please let this house remain sane a few more days longer.'

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Well, I hope you liked it and again, I'm sorry about the delay in getting this posted. And as always, please review.

Pinkmoon


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